The Boy Patriot | Page 6

and love his holy
will."
Hal had been at church many times in his life, and looked curiously on
at the whole proceeding, as at a "show." Now for the first time he heard
prayer made for him, for poor Hal Hutchings, to the great God of
heaven. He gathered but little of the burden of the prayer; yet his first
remark after Mrs. Robertson resumed her seat beside him was a proof
that he appreciated the sincerity of her interest in him.
"You are very kind, ma'am," he said. "I'd like to be such an American
as you. I take it you are the best sort, not like them boys on the wharf."
"Those boys are very sorry for their mischief by this time," said Mrs.
Robertson. "My own son would gladly do any thing for you. He says he
never shall forget what he suffered when he thought you might be
drowned in consequence of his folly. But I think he has learned a lesson
he will never forget. He has seen how far wrong he might go if he
followed his own foolish ways. I trust he will hereafter be a faithful,
humble child of God."

"He pulled me out of the water," said Hal warmly. "He's true grit. I'd go
to the death for him."
"He will be very glad to have you for a faithful friend," said Mrs.
Robertson; "but look, you must not teach him any thing bad, or tempt
him to do wrong. He is my only child, and my dearest wish is to see
him a noble, pure, Christian man."
"I wont teach him any 'arm as I knows to be 'arm," said Hal, putting out
his hand to ratify the bargain.
It was a rough, hard hand, but Mrs. Robertson took it kindly as she
answered, "God help you to keep your promise, Hal;" and so their
interview closed.
When Monday morning came, Hal Hutchings was up and dressed
almost as early as Mrs. Robertson herself. Into the kitchen he walked,
hearing the good lady's voice in that direction. "I'm going now," he said,
"and I just looked in to bid you good-by."
"Stop and take breakfast with us, wont you, Hal? You shall not go
away hungry."
Some crisp cakes of codfish and potatoes were getting the last coat of
brown in a frying-pan over the fire, and a huge loaf of Boston "brown
bread" was on the table near at hand.
"I wouldn't mind a slice of that bread and one of them cakes, if you
would let me sit down here and eat 'em," said Hal.
Mrs. Robertson understood the boy's unwillingness to take a meal with
strangers who had been raised in habits of greater refinement than his
own. She kindly made a place for him where he was, and he soon
rendered it evident that bashfulness had not taken away his appetite. "I
don't want you to leave us," said Mrs. Robertson. "I should like to have
you stay here until we can find something for you to do. I want to teach
you to be a good Christian boy, the right kind of an American."

"I don't want to be beholden to anybody," said Hal with decision. "I
worked my way over, and I haven't begged a penny since I came. I
don't mean to, unless I'm starving. Mrs. McKinstry has let me her little
room. I've paid for it for this month, and I don't mean to lose my money.
But I like your teaching, ma'am. It takes hold of me different from any
thing I ever heard before."
"Come in on Sunday evenings then, Hal. I am always at home then, and
I should love dearly to teach you, and help you to be a good boy. Will
you come?" said Mrs. Robertson.
"I will, ma'am, I will," said Hal; and making a rude attempt at a bow, he
took his leave.
CHAPTER IV.
THE PATRIOT'S WORK.
Mrs. Robertson and her son were sitting at their pleasant breakfast-table
together.
"Blair," said the mother, "you want to be a patriot. Here is some work
for you to do for your country. We must try to make a good American
citizen out of Hal, and a good Christian at the same time. The poor
fellow is deeply grateful to you, and you will have a powerful influence
over him."
"I can't bear the English," said Blair warmly. "I don't like any
foreigners, for that matter. It don't seem to me they are the right stuff to
make American citizens out of. Give me the native-born Yankee, free
and independent from his cradle upwards. That's my way of thinking."
Blair stood up as he spoke, and waved his knife in a manner more
emphatic than elegant. A speech,